Unspoken Agreement
by Colosso
Summary: Ron has a fight with his mother about his strange disappearances. The story starts with the fight and then flashbacks to what exactly ickle Ronnikins has been up to. Rated for swearing and some adult themes later on. I do not own Harry Potter.
1. Breathing, Blinking, and Going into Town

"I really just cannot believe that this is my life. In all seriousness, this sucks." Ron was laying face-down on the carpet in his room at the Burrow. He was in full self pitying mode now, nothing could stop him.

"Ron, you're being ridiculous. Your life does not suck and it's time you just went downstairs and apologized to your mother." Hermione always loved to be the voice of reason. The obnoxious voice of reason.

"Just leave Hermione, you're not helping," Ron moaned into the threadbare carpet.

"Hmph! I've never met a boy as rude and callous as you Ronald Weasley! You're poor mother is probably down there right now in her kitchen bawling her eyes out. And you! You're in here moping like a fool! You're despicable! I can't believe you would treat your mother like this. I don't even know-" Hermione was still ranting as she slammed his door shut and was stomping down the stairs.

Harry, who had been sitting on Ron's comforter, looked around uneasily. What to do if Ron asked for his opinion? He wasn't even there during the argument that happened between Ron and his mother. He had been out denoming the yard again with Fred and George. They had all actully been out denoming the yard when Mrs. Weasley had, quite unexpectedly called Ron inside the house. The other boys had shrugged it off and continued their work until they heard the yelling.

"Fine! And I hope you enjoy the fact that you just alienated your youngest son! See if there is ever another heart to heart between us you hag!"

"Don't you dare talk to me like that young man! And where are you going? You come right down those stairs and back into this kitchen we're not done here yet!"

"Really? Because I rather think that we are."

And with that Ron stomped up the stairs, making sure that every step reverberated through the entire house and then locked himself into his room.

"Harry? You still there?" came a bedraggled voice from the other side of the room.

"Yeah, I'm still here Ron."

"Good."

"…"

"…"

"Hey Ron…"

"Yeah Harry?"

"What were you and your mother fighting about anyways?" Harry thought he knew; it was probably the fact that Ron was never home anymore. Molly was constantly questioning him and Hermione to see if they knew of Ron's whereabouts and trying to stage conversations when Ron was around to trap him into taking Harry and Hermione with him. It was getting pretty strained in the Burrow, to say the least.

A long silence followed and Harry wasn't sure if Ron had decided to ignore the question, or perhaps had just fallen asleep.

Contrary to both of his assumptions Ron was just thinking about what indeed he and his mother had been fighting about. It wasn't such a big deal, but Molly Weasley was infamous for having to know absolutely everything that went on in her children's lives. They might not always know she knows, but she did. Mother's intuition, if you will.

The thing that was coming between mother and son, and that was so royally pissing her off, was the fact that she did not know what he was up to. She had no idea what Ron was doing with his days. There was two more weeks left of summer break, before Ron left for his 6th year at Hogwarts, and she had been pondering over this mystery the entire break. She knew that he walked down to that muggle village that they lived by, but not of what he was doing there. The first time, he had just been bored and had finally thought of something to do. He came home with a bruise on his forehead to which he replied the he 'fell down.' After that it became once or twice a week, "I'm going for a bit of a walk, Mum, see ya in a bit," or a, "Dad's been down lately, Mum, I think it's all that overtime he's putting in for the Ministry. I'm gong to go down to St. Catchpoles and see if I can get him some plugs, or one of those 'remote' things. I think it'd really cheer him up."

Like a fool, she hadn't caught on until she realized suddenly that Ron was leaving every morning to go down to that damned town and wasn't getting home until dinner. And soon he was even missing dinner; he would just laugh it off and warm up some leftovers. And Ron might have thought himself as sly, but Molly knew that he would sneak out sometimes. After lying in bed awhile, pretending to be asleep, he would tiptoe down the stairs, out the door, and down to bloody St. Catchpole. It was maddening. It had been a month and Molly had hoped that he would stop as soon as his friends came over. No such luck. Sure, he had stayed home on Harry and Hermione's arrival date. Even deigning to stay for two days after that, but during breakfast of the fourth day Ron casually said, "I have some …er things to do in St. Catchpoles, I'll be home later."

Later? Later?! Molly wanted exact times, down to the second, and she wanted a strict itinerary of everything he was going to be doing down there.

Instead she said, "Why don't you take Harry and Hermione, they've never been to the village, I think that they would have a nice time." Ha! Let's see you weasel out of that one!

He had replied with an immediate, "I don't think so, I really need to hurry, but that's a great idea Mum. Guys, let's go to town sometime, they have a great ice cream parlor, actually, they only have the one, but it'll be loads of fun. Anyways, I'll see you guys later." And with those parting words he was out the door faster then Molly could come up with a rebuttal.

And this continued. For two more weeks before Molly finally decided that it was time that her and her youngest boy to have a little chat. It started out perfectly friendly. Of course, it soon turned into a shouting match of, "You have no right to pry into my life like this!" and, "I'm your mother! Everything you do is my business! And that includes breathing, blinking, and going into town everyday!"

The thing was, Ron reflected as he lay facedown, he couldn't tell his mother where he'd been. And he sure as hell couldn't tell Harry why he and his Mum had been fighting because he couldn't tell Harry where he'd been either. When this had first started over a month ago it had seemed so easy. Come down to town every once in awhile, hang out, make a quick buck. He had no idea things would get so messy in such a short time.


	2. Johnny Rotten

The morning dawned bright and beautiful. The few clouds that grace the sky were white and fluffy and the sun merrily shined down on all of his subjects. Today was the sort of day where everything seemed more vivid and colorful than it usually did. The grass was an especially lovely shade of dark green, the squirrels frolicked more, the songs the birds sang were happier, even the stream near his house was joyously burbling away.

Ron was so bloody bored.

He was sprawled on the grass near his house wishing that he lived somewhere more interesting. It was only a week into the summer hols and he couldn't think of a single thing to do. Ron was so bored that he thought his brain had turned to mush. There wasn't even anyone to talk to, maybe firm his brain back up a bit with some conversation. Bill and Charlie weren't coming over until the end of summer to see him and Ginny off to Hogwarts, Percy still wasn't talking to them, Fred and George had once again locked themselves into their rooms, and Ginny was too busy owling her friends and trying to fix her clothes up to look less worn. And his parents? Please, he was a teenager.

He'd tried owling Harry, but his muggles had probably locked him away again, so no answers there. And Hermione was nice in small doses; she was just too preachy in her letters. Always nagging him to get his summer homework done and to start skimming through next year's book list. Hell, he didn't even know what the books where on his 6th year list were, but apparently Hermione had already purchased her books for next year and was marking off chapters by color; which were just interesting chapters that simply must be revisited, which would probably be focal points of next year's lessons, and which books corresponded to other's. "It makes studying loads easier Ron, you won't have to go searching through every chapter looking, the tab will tell you where to go."

So he was stuck. Nothing to do again today but lay around the house. He wanted to go do things, leave his house, run around, eat ice cream. Anything.

And that's when it hit him. He lived just a couple miles away from a town, he could even see it if he sat up straight, shielded his eyes and squinted a little. They probably even had an ice cream parlor there. What was he thinking laying around here? He immediately got to his feet, brushing off grass and dirt as he rushed into the house.

"MUM! Where are you?"

"Ronald! I am right here; there is no need to shout!"

"Er, right. Sorry Mum. Anyways, there's nothing to do around here so I was thinking of walking down to St. Catchpoles, if that's alright with you?"

"Hmmm. I guess that's fine, dear. As long as you're going down there will you get me a couple of things? I need a new spatula; this old thing just won't take to a Repairo anymore. I also need some light bulbs; your father is going to kill himself if he keeps trying to duplicate things. I keep telling him, 'Arthur, you're not to mix magic and those muggle contraptions,' he should really know that, I mean, look at his job. But he just keeps thinking he's a professional. What am I going to do with that man? I swear, I take my eyes off him fo-"

"Right, thanks mum, a spatula and light bobs, I got it, I'll be back later."

Molly turned to hand Ron some muggle money for the supplies she needed but the front door was already swinging back and she could see him running towards town through the window.

"Well, he's sure in a hurry. He lays about all day, getting underfoot until I send him outside and then he just lays out there and suddenly he has energy? I told him he could weed or mow the lawn but noooo. Bah, teenagers."

Ron had sweated clean through his shirt by the time he had made it into town. His face was beat red, he was panting, and after waiting in line for ice cream for ten minutes, he realized that he didn't have any muggle money on him. The entire trip was a waste; he couldn't even get the things his mother wanted.

Walking along aimlessly was at least a little better then hanging around at home, there was more stuff to look at. Instead of staring at his warped house, and watching gnomes slowly stroll back into the yard, he could now see store fronts, people… people eating ice cream. Damn them. The way that girl was licking her cone… it was sinful. Ron quickly turned away, and started walking in another direction. Far way from ice cream.

After shuffling around for awhile he saw a park up ahead of him that he remembered he used to play at with his siblings when his parents made one of their infrequent trips here, so he made a beeline for it. If nothing else, at least he could get out of the sun and lay around in the shade.

Half an hour later he was positioned on the big toy, hands on the bars and his long legs dangling off the side. It was a little known fact but Ron loved the big toy. Being the youngest boy though, when his family had come to town and all his brothers and Ginny and he had played, he was always regulated to the seesaw, or the seahorses that are on a spring so that they move back and forth, back and forth. He wasn't a girl so he couldn't be the 'fair maiden' and he wasn't big enough to go save her. How he wished he could save her from the dragon, which, ironically was always played by Charlie. Huh. 'Funny how things like that work out,' he thought to himself.

'Wait. Does that mean I'm going to… study seahorses? I don't even really like seahorses. I can't even swim! I mean, yeah, that time during the second challenge, I helped Harry swim us to shore, but that was mostly just adrenaline. And don't tell Fleur, but I kind of used her sister to stay afloat. I mean, I'm not proud-'

"Yo!"

Ron instantly swung his head around to look at the kid standing behind him. And hit his head on the bars in the process.

"Oh fuck! Shit! Oooowwwwaaaaaahhhhhh"

"Oh man. Are you alright? You ok? You bleedin'? You got a concussion? You crush ya' skull?"

All that Ron answered with was a pitiful moan.

"Shit man, sorry I scared you. I was just tryin' ta say hey."

Ron opened his eyes and got a blurry shot of a blonde guy crouching next to him and franticly waving his arms and looking around.

It was mostly just the initial shock of slamming his head into something because a couple minutes later it moved from the stinging pain into a duller throb. Oh he knew that was going bruise. Still rubbing his forehead he gave a small smile to the guy behind him. Yeah, that was definitely going to bruise.

"It's alright. Calm down, I'm the one who's hurt. Therefore I get all freaking out rights. Stop stealing my thunder."

"Ha, funny. You sure your head's fine? No concussion, right? Not dyin' right?" The blonde seemed pretty worried about him and it made Ron smile a bit wider. It's always nice to have someone care. Even if it's their fault you're hurt in the first place.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. My head's hard. Well, pretty hard. My name's Ron, what's yours?"

"Sid, and what are you doing sitting on a kid's toy, huh?"

"Not much Sid, just thinking."

"Yeah? 'Bout what? You were pretty out of it. I almos' touched ya shoulda to get ya attention, good thing I didn' othawise ya might'a died."

"Yeah, I might of."

"So? Whatchu thinkin' 'bout?"

"I was thinking about my brothers. And about how things you do as a kid affects you when you're older."

"That's almos' deep. You a deep person?"

"Maybe, in my thoughts I'm always deep, but the things I say are always dumb."

"Haha. I hear ya man."

After that, conversation died. It was a nice silence for about a minute and then suddenly it was very, very awkward. Ron wasn't sure if Sid even realized how awkward it was. He was starting to sweat, and his thoughts were getting out of control. 'Was Sid short for something? Was it Sidney? Like the place in Australia? Or like Sid Vicious? Did that make him Johnny Rotten? We're both gingers.'

"Hey, you wanna get some ice cream? It's hotter 'an a bleedin' sauna righ' now."

"Er, I don't have any cash on me."

"Oh, well, I could spot you if you're low right now."

"Oh, eh, that's not needed I'm not really that hot."

"Yeah, tha' would explain why ya shirt's drippin' sweat."

"I drank a lot of water this morning."

"Ya full of shit."

"… I won't be able to pay you back."

"I don't care."

"Really?"

"I'll jus' charge ya a ridiculous amount of interes'. Ha!"

And with that they started off in the direction that Ron had come to the ice cream parlor. It was, apparently the only ice cream parlor in town. Tripping down the street with Sid, free ice cream in hand, was fun. In fact, it was the most fun he'd had in a long time. Sure he loved being at school, with his friends, but it was stressful. Schoolwork was hard enough, but with Hermione being an overachiever, along with all his older brothers, and Harry with all of his problems… Sometimes it just got to be too much.

This was exactly what Ron wanted. Easy friendships. Easy smiles. He didn't even feel guilty about having Sid buy him something, like he did with everyone else. It felt ok to admit to Sid that his family was poor. That, yeah, they were those weird ones with all the kids that lived in that house on the ledge above the town. And yeah, it's true that his mom once sent a letter that was totally covered with stamps, and uh, she doesn't get out much. And yeah, it's true that all the kids go to boarding school. And no, his parents didn't send them away because they hated having that many children; they just wanted them to get a good education. And no, we are all our father's children, Mum is not a skank.

Three hours later found the two, now best of friends, sunning themselves shirtless and talking on someone's rooftop. Ron was unsure at first, but Sid convinced him that he and his friends did it all the time, no one cared. They slowly tapered out of things to say and just relaxed back onto the roof, Sid idly picking at some moss growing in between the shingles.

"Hey Ron?"

"Yeah man?"

"Tell me somethin'."

"What? We've been talking; I've been telling you a lot."

"No, I mean, somethin' secret. Somethin' ya neva' told anyone else."

"No one else? Ah. Well, I'm scared of spiders, but a lot of people know that. So. I don't know. You go first."

"You a big baby. Fine, I'll go firs'. Hmm. Sometimes I like to fancy myself as Sid Vicious."

"Haha, really? I wondered if you had been named after him."

"Yeah? You think I'm that cool?"

"Well, not quite. Maybe someday. You'll have make sure your death is intense though."

"Whatever man, I'm cooler then you. It's your turn."

"Well, I guess that fish eyes creep me out"

"I like to go skinny dipping alone when the moon is really bright."

"One time I put on my sister's bra to see what under wire felt like."

"I like to burn candles"

"I'm a virgin."

"I lost mine when I was thirteen."

"I feel inadequate standing next to my family."

"Others have no faith in me because of mine."

"I've never had a steady girlfriend."

"Me neither."

"My friends' think I'm immature and that they're better then me."

"I don't wear underwear."

"I sleep with a stuffed dragon that my big brother gave me."

"I suck my thumb at night."

"I… don't have anything left."

"Oh good, me neither."

"…"

"…"

"Wow, I can't believe some of the stuff I told you."

"Yeah, Ron? Jus' ta let ya know I don' think ya immature. I think ya great."

"Really?"

"Yeah man, you know how ta have fun. Let loose. Bu' you still… I dunno, you seem ta really have it togetha'. "

"Most people think I'm some sort of idiot."

"Most people are idiots."

Ron propped himself up on one his elbows and shared a smile with Sid. They moved closer together and lay back down, hands cushioning their heads against the roof. They watched the beginnings of the sun going down when Ron suddenly shot up.

"Oh shit!"

"Wow, man, clam down! Wha' is it?"

"I need to get home! Sid, I'll see you later! Bye!"

"Wait! What day later?"

Ron was already climbing down the trellis on the side of the house but he stopped long enough to shout up, "In two days, I'll see you on Thursday!" And with that he jumped the rest of the way down and took off running.

By the time he had made it home he was gasping for breath, bent over, hands on knees gasping. He stopped on the porch for a minute trying to regain his equilibrium before he went inside. He wasn't quite sure what his homecoming reception was going to be. It was definitely late, his family had probably already started eating dinner, and he hadn't gotten the things his mother needed from the store. Sucking in a big gulp of air and straightening out his back, he opened the front door and walked inside. He could hear the sounds coming from the kitchen so he headed over there. He hadn't even realized how hungry he was until he smelt his mother's cooking. But now that Ron thought about it, all he had eaten today was some breakfast and that ice cream cone, not nearly enough for a Weasley.

When he walked in the kitchen his family stopped eating and stared at him.

"Ron! Where have you been! You've been gone for hours! 5 hours to be exact! And you almost missed dinner!"

"Sorry Mum, I got to town and realized I didn't have any money. So I couldn't get you the things you needed. Sorry."

"That's fine Ron; I just want to know what you've been doing this whole time."

"Well, Mum, I sort of… er, fell asleep in the park. The one we went to when I was younger."

"That's our little Ronnikins," started Fred.

"Always falling asleep in strange places," finished George.

"Remember when he-"

"Got lost in that town and fell asleep-"

"On someone's stoop!" They chorused together.

"Oh Ron, as if that town doesn't think we're odd enough. You have to go making us look like bums!" His mother was looking at him with disapproving eyes.

"Sorry Mum, it won't happen again."

"Well good. Anyways, sit down. You're going to miss out on all the food."

As Ron began piling food onto his plate, the conversation resumed and he was forgotten. His family chatted about mundane things, like Arthur's day at work, what new atrocity Molly had found in Fred and George's room, and an update on how Errol was doing.

For some reason Ron couldn't place, he was moody. He didn't understand it, this had been the best day he'd had in forever, and now that he was back home, he felt like he didn't belong. He sat quietly at dinner, not really paying attention, and as soon as he could be excused, his dishes were in the sink and he had literally flown to his room, instantly slammed the door shut and had then thrown himself onto his bed.

He felt tired for some reason, but all he had really done today was lay around. First the house, then the garden, the park, the roof, and now back inside the house.

And why had he lied to him mother? The truth wasn't bad; he'd made a muggle friend and had hung out with him. His family loved muggles. His father probably would have patted him his back and asked him to get information on 'cables'.

He'd just automatically done it, without thinking. Just lied to her. There was really no reason. It had just felt like the right thing to do, keeping Sid a secret. He wondered if Sid had told his parents about him.

He wondered what Sid was doing right now. Had he gone off to his house to eat dinner too? Somehow Ron doubted it. He thought that Sid was probably still on that rooftop right now, watching the stars.

**Author's Note:**

Just to let everyone know, in case you do, in fact, live under a rock, Johnny Rotten and Sid (Sidney) Vicious were members of the Sex Pistols. Hell, they were the Sex Pistols. They were vocals and bass, respectively. There was also a guy named Wally, drums, I think and some guitar player, I can't remember his name. Anyways, they were pretty much the re-emergence of punk rock. Before them punk rock had become complacent, but the Pistols brought intensity and violence. They hale from England, so I thought it fit. They got popular late 60's, 70's. But Vicious died much before Ron or Sid's time. Before my time too, but I'm totally in love with their image anyways. I definitely recommend you listen to their songs. Anarchy in the UK and Somethin' Else are two of my personal favorites. Also, Sex and Violence makes me laugh.

**Author's Second Note:**

I tried to make a longer chapter this time, not as long as some other writer's, but this is my longest. I was going to make it 10 pages, but I felt like the chapter was done. I'd accidentally ended it at page 8. Oh well.


	3. Errands and Mad Trouble

Ron awoke the next morning happier than he had in along time. As he snuggled deeper into his warm covers he replayed yesterday in his mind, smiling at his memories with Sid. He was just beginning to turn over and fall back to sleep when he heard his mother yelling up the stairs that breakfast was going to be ready soon.

Ron yawned and stretched out, pointing his feet off the edge of his bed. He slowly made his way out of bed, and not bothering to get dressed he walked down the stairs to breakfast in his pajamas. Yawning again and scratching his chest he plopped onto a chair and immediately started piling bacon onto his plate.

He groggily looked around the table at his family as he moved onto the scrambled eggs and grinned as he realized everyone was in a similar state of half wakefulness. Well, everyone excluding his mother, who hadn't sat down yet and was busy bustling around the kitchen retrieving serving spoons and filling up glasses with orange juice. She looked around the large kitchen table and beamed at her family as they merrily ate away at the food she had prepared for them. She nudged the plate of bacon closer to Ron, he was a growing boy after all, and that's when she saw it. Right on his forehead.

Molly finally sat down to join in on breakfast. After they had eaten in silence for awhile, Molly decided to bring up the gigantic bruise that had formed over Ron's right eye.

"So Ron, did you have a nice time in town yesterday? We didn't get to talk about it much last night."

"Oh, er, yeah. It was fine."

"I see. You just conked out in the park?"

"…Yeah."

"And how did you get that bruise on your face?"

His hand immediately shot up to his forehead to feel it. He had totally forgotten about that. But of course, now that he'd been reminded it started hurting again.

He looked back up to his mother and then slowly turned to look at the rest of the table and realized that all his family members had stopped eating and were staring at him.

"Bloody hell Ron, did you get in a fight with a muggle?" Bloody stupid Fred, always has to open his bloody mouth.

"No I didn't. I just ah, well, someone tripped over me."

"What?!"

"Well, I was sleeping in the park. And er, well someone didn't see me and they kind of tripped over me. And that's why I have a bruise. No big."

"Someone tripped over you? Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, Mum. I'm great." I'm bloody brilliant.

"All right. If you're sure."

And with that, breakfast returned to normal, with a few jokes directed at Ron and his inability to find a proper place to sleep.

After a long day of cloud watching, Ron found himself in bed staring out of his window at the stars again. He had to admit though, that the stars were more interesting when he hadn't known anything about them. After a few divination and astronomy classes under his belt they didn't seem as mysterious or ironically enough, as magical as they once had.

His last thought before falling asleep was if the muggle school that Sid went to taught astronomy. Because muggles looked at the stars and wondered too, right?

After a hasty breakfast the next morning, Ron offered to go to town again. After a couple pleadings of, "Come on Mum! I'm not in a rush today, just hand over the muggle bills and I've got it covered! I promise!" His mother finally relented, gave him some cash, and told him not to sleep in foreign places.

Ron walked until he was out of sight of the kitchen window and then proceeded to run all the way to town. All he had thought about this morning was getting to St. Catchpole's and seeing Sid again. Nearing the town he slowed to a walk, trying to gulp down air in big breathes. His family really was weird enough for this town, considering everyone knew about the stamps thing already, he didn't need to be panting and sweating when he went in. They'd probably think he'd stolen something.

As he strolled into town Ron was feeling exceptionally good about everything. He walked around some of the shopping areas before entering a likely looking multi appliances tore. Walking up and down the aisles he bought a spatula and a watch for his dad. Standing in the checkout he bought his father a pack of gum too. He remembered the first time the family had all tried gum. They don't have anything like it in the wizarding world, and George had swallowed it before they realized it was just for chewing, not eating.

He thanked the cashier and was walking out the door swinging his plastic bag when he stopped dead in his tracks. He just realized that he a Sid had never designated a place to meet. Or a time.

'Should I go to the park? It's where we first met. Or the rooftop? That's where I told him I'd see him again. Shite. I'll just go back to the big toy, that should be the obvious place. I'm sure that's where he'll be.'

And with that hopeful thought uppermost in his mind he made his way to the park, swinging the plastic bag in time. As he neared the park, he started feeling anxious and excited. How would it be to see Sid again? Would it be uncomfortable after telling him so many personal things?

Approaching the park he could clearly see Sid relaxing, not only on top of the big toy, but also on top of the enclosed slide.

"Ay-Oh!" He hollered, making his way through the bark and ascending the ladder.

Sid groggily raised his head, then his hand and grunted and waived.

Ron took a seat next to Sid and dropped the plastic bag next to himself.

"Wa's all tha' there then?" Sid's voice had a ragged and rough quality to it that Ron found disconcerting.

"Just a few errand items I had to pick up for me mum, a spatula and whatnot."

"Mmmhmmm. Tha's real good of ya."

Ron was watching Sid very carefully. There really was no word to describe him as other than looking like complete shite.

"You don't look so good today mate, maybe you should head home and have a lay-down."

"Ha. Tha's jist me saving me energy. I feel fit as a fiddle mate." And as if saying the words made it a magic spell, Sid sat up looking chipper and interested. "Its very importan' to conserve energy – it isn't inexhaustible, ya know?"

"I guess. I've never really thought about it like that before. I mean though, if you eat and sleep, basically charge yourself up, then energy is inexhaustible."

"But tha's jist it, if ya can't charge up, then ya bes' conserve 'cuz ya may neva get anotha' chance ta charge."

"Another chance to eat?"

"Well, ya know wha' I mean."

"I guess."

Ron rubbed his upper arm and glanced around. It made him uncomfortable to think about going hungry and being tired. Did that mean Sid didn't have a home? A family? Ron struggled to remember everything Sid had said to him two days ago, searching for a clue.

"Well, I think we've spent enough time 'ere, we should head out." Sid started standing up and stretched his hands high above his head.

Ron was feeling uneasy thinking about humans charging themselves using basic necessities. He glanced up, and frowning, asked, "Head out? But where?"

"Oh, ya know. Somewhere where there is a little more privacy. No little chil'ren wonderin' about."

"Oh. Ok. What did you want to do today? I don't have any money, but we could wonder around town or – "

"Actually mate, I was thinkin' we could head down to the river outside of town. I have a favorite place to relax out at."

Sid smiled and reached a hand down to help Ron up.

Accepting the proffered hand, Ron replied, "That sounds great Sid. The water is low and slow right now, we could have a rock skipping tournament!"

"Haha, excellent. That is exactly what I want ta do!"

Both boys launched themselves from the big toy; Ron made a decent landing on both feet but the weight of his impact brought him to his knees. Sid crash landed but was back up and running circles around Ron in an instant. Regaining his feet, Ron couldn't help but wonder at the complete 180 of Sid from 10 minutes ago to Sid from right now. He knew it sounded ridiculous, even in the privacy of his own mind, but it almost seemed like Sid charged himself up not on food, but on people, on communication.

Ron laughed off the silly notion and he and Sid started running in the opposite direction of his house, towards the river.

It took them about 20 minutes to reach the section of the river that Sid had christened as his favored spot. There were many trees around the river, it was a fairly dry area and trees did not tend to grow far from the riverbank. Sid guided him to one tree in particular, as Ron was staring at it, he realized that it was the only tree that seemed to have its lower branches cut off. He looked questioningly at Sid and received an excited grin in return.

Sid rapidly and skillfully started climbing up the tree right next to it, until he was hidden in foliage. Ron stood on the ground a few moments before scrambling up the tree as well. As soon as he broke through the cover layer and looked around, he saw a fairly large and well-hidden platform built into the tree next to him, with Sid sitting in it and waiving furiously at him.

"Ay mate! Jist jump righ' ova! It's strong enough to take ya weight!"

Ron had some serious doubts as to whether or not some tree structure could handle being jumped on. After all, he was six and a half feet tall and he did weight a little over 14 stones. But he didn't want to look like a pansy. He took a deep breath, prepared for death, and leapt to the platform.

Thankfully, some god, somewhere, answered his prayers and the platform absorbed his impact and held secure. Ron paused a moment to appreciate the handiwork of whoever built this sturdy tree house and to also appreciate his own balls and cat-like reflexes.

"Oh wow boyo, tha' sure shook the framework! After ya landed, I wasn't so sure it would take yer weight!" And then Sid immediately burst into raucous laughter.

Ron had no choice but to join in.

Laughing and rolling around on the platform lead to wrestling and then mock insults. Finally they both lay back, panting – still chortling between gasps of air.

"Ay, ya mind if I ligh' up a fag?" Sid had sat up and was pulling a cigarette from a slightly crumpled soft pack. He looked up and handed the cig to Ron, "do you partake, mate?"

Ron hesitated for a second. He realized that in that second he had lost his chance to be hip in front of Sid.

"Honestly mate, I haven't ever smoked a fag, but I am willing to give it a go."

Sid smiled and put the cigarette up to Ron's lips and brought his other hand up with the lighter. "Inhale as I light it" was all he said. Then he lit one up for himself.

They sat quietly smoking for a few minutes. As Ron inhaled and exhaled the smoke, he felt like he understood why people did it. He could only take little puffs off the fag and then continue to breathe in clean, fresh air or he would start madly coughing. But it had a nice effect. The act of bringing the cig to his face, his fingers brushing his lips and check as he brought fragrant, cloying smoke deep into his lungs. He was already feeling more relaxed, mellower. He liked watching the blue opaque smoke trail off of the ember, spiraling into unfathomable shapes; and the grayer shade of smoke that escaped from his lungs in a billowing cloud and quickly disappeared.

As he sat there, smoking and watching the fumes, Ron realized that he was starting to feel a little funny. A little tingly. He realized that his skin felt a little cold, but his body was a fine temperature. Like his skin was minty cool.

"Sid, I'm starting to feel a little queer, mate."

"Ah don't worry. Maybe jist don't finish the fag. They can give ya a buzz."

"So the tingly is normal? I feel sort of, I don't know. High up. Like I'm floating. Or bouncing but I never hit the ground."

"Yeah. Great, righ'? You'll hit the ground soon enough though, when the nicotine wears off in about ten ta twenty minutes."

"Oh… Well if it wears off that quickly, I think I'll finish it, cheers." Ron said, saluting Sid with his half smoked fag.

"I knew I liked you," Sid laughed and saluted back.

The rest of the fag was finished in silence. Afterward, Ron was feeling incredibly weird and floaty and happy and enjoyed sitting in the trees in the middle of nowhere. He knew that there must be poetry somewhere in that.

After awhile Sid asked, "How are ya feelin' now? Still floaty? Still stoned off yer arse?"

"Stoned?" Ron yelped; surprise confusion and worry all mingled together. "I thought it was just a fag?"

"Don't worry boyo, it was jist a fag. I meant it in the way ya feel it. Stoned isn't really about the drug as it is about the feelin'."

"Oh. Yeah… right." And once again Ron realized that he had lost his chance to look hip.

It was quiet for a few beats and then Sid broke out, "ya know, I'm surprised. I thought all you boarding school cats got into mad trouble."

"Hahaaa, there is trouble mate, believe you me. But my school is way out in the bloody boonies. It isn't really like other boarding schools."

"Wha, is it some prestigious prep school or some shite like that?"

"It's not very prestigious, but it is a sort of prep school. Listen, I just got on my summer hols, I really don't want to think about the gloomy ol' place right now."

"Understandable mate, completely understandable. I myself won't even think about school as soon as it is out fer the day!" Sid pierced Ron with a startlingly serious expression. Ron felt pinned down by the look until suddenly Sid burst into a crazed laughter and Ron, suddenly free, had no alternative than to join in.

Somehow the laughter made him feel floaty again and it made him laugh harder and with more gusto.

"Hey mate." Sid was looking at him.

Ron put all his effort forth into stopping the laughter and starting the even breathing. "Yeah?"

"Do you _want_ to get into some mad trouble?" Sid's expression morphed into a devious grin.

The laughter and the breathing stopped.

"We wont actually get into any trouble, we'll jist be _being_ trouble."

"It depends on the trouble, my mum will skin me alive if the mug… uh, if the um –"

"The constables?"

"Yes! I'm still a little, uh, a little stoned. My mum would skin me alive if the constables brought me home."

"Well we never even have ta leave this tree house ta be trouble. So no chance of the constables spottin' us."

"What sort of trouble can we get into here? We're up a bloody tree!"

"This sort," and with that statement Sid pulled a small, glass pipe out of his front pocket with a flourish.


End file.
